It Matters Not

If you haven’t been following the news, the California legislature passed a marriage equality bill that would have made gays and lesbians truly equal in the eyes of the law of that state. And their governor, The Governator, vowed to veto it immediately, noting that it should be the courts that decide. He likes him some activist judges, that Governator.

But it took him over a week to get around to his veto paperwork.

A journalist whom I really respect supposed in his blog that The Governator was postponing his veto of this bill passed by the representatives of the people for a good reason. This journalist supposed that Arnold was worried about his place in history. That maybe his conscience was getting the better of him.

But, of course, The Governator did veto the bill. Naturally.

Men of power and ambition are willing to hurt anyone as long as it benefits them. Arnold may have actually wanted to sign the bill. No, really. Maybe he did. But I imagine he didn’t really care one way or the other.

What Arnold cares about it is him. What Arnold cares about is getting where he wants to be. He wants another term, to make his rich friends richer, and to amend the US Constitution so he can do it all for them again from the comfort of the Whitehouse. This is what The Governator wants.

And make no mistake about it, any principle he has is for sale if it will get him closer to his goals. There is no one he wouldn’t hurt. No one.

As for the journalist… he may have been right. I do hope that the Governator cared about his place in history. I hope he saw the ad comparing him to George Wallace and felt a pang of guilt. I hope he looked at his signature line over and over again, delaying the act of vetoing because he knew it was wrong. I hope he had long talks with Maria trying to justify what he knew was nothing more than a career move.

But what if he did? Does it matter?

Sodomite Companies Want Your Children!

The lovely, witty, dirty-minded Wonkette posted today regarding an article at the World Net Daily website about corporate America’s pro-homosexual cuddling.

The World Net Daily is what is increasingly called wingnut, or extreme right-wing. For those of you who wish to know what the opposite of that would be, that’s moonbat. I have no idea what moonbat comes from or what it implies, but wingnut seems pretty obvious.

Although I don’t recommend anyone else do this, I actually took at look at their related reader poll and a handful of linked articles.

As I said, I don’t recommend it for the faint of heart. I am a calloused, jaded homosexual and reading vitriol about people like myself doesn’t shock or dismay me the way it might someone who were simply a friend of equality, say. Think of this as your “Do not attempt. Professional driver on closed course” warning.

One thing I noticed, however, was the repeated use of the term pro-homosexual. Now don’t get me wrong, I definitely advocate for my fellow sexual outlaws. I loves me my homo homies. However, I wouldn’t even describe myself as pro-homosexual, let alone America’s Fortune 100.

To me, pro-homosexual is a lot like the term you used to hear for reproductive choice advocates. Back when, they were “pro-abortion.” But saying someone is pro-abortion is like saying they advocate for abortion in all instances of pregnancy, which is clearly absurd and very misleading.

Similarly, I would expect a company that takes a pro-homosexual stance to be holding classes on homosexuality to teach people the upside of being gay, and discouraging heterosexuality. They could perhaps have a same-sex mentoring program where women taught each other proper cunnilingus techniques, and gag reflex suppression sessions during lunchtime for the boys. They might feature an article in their company newsletter that talks about the diseases you can get from heterosexual intercourse and the horrors of child bearing/rearing, noting that people who date same sex partners need not worry their pretty little heads.

And then, of course, they could throw separate company parties for women and men. The boys would be treated to a white-party styled dance, and they could give out ecstacy and condoms and make sure there’s a back room lit by a dim red light. I don’t know what would be the equivalent for lesbians. Maybe an Indigo Girls concert.

Now that’s what I call a pro-homosexual company. Down with all the trappings of heterosexuality, up with sodomites!

No, instead all we have are these rich firms who simply acknowledge that homosexuals work for them, and promise not to treat them any differently than straights. Although that’s really quite kind of them, it’s hardly what I would call pro-homosexual.

But oh well.

Coincidence?

Salary and Slavery have all but two letters in common.

Coincidence? I think not.

Rededication

Call it a crisis, call it what you will. I am rededicating myself to myself.

Over the past 9 years or so I developed a body I was not ashamed of. A taking-the-shirt-off-in-public(-sometimes) type of body that I liked. I put on 50lbs of mostly-muscle over the course of those years and I liked it.

But my ectomorphic body relishes the opportunity to drop weight and has shed 15 of those pounds this year. It has been maliciously rejoicing the entire time. I am not amused.

So this morning I dragged my shriveled and smug body back to the gym for a reasonable (re)starter workout and a stern talking-to. It was a rude awakening. I forgot my sweat towel. I realized my workout shorts did not stay round my waist the way they did before. This eliminated the possibility of cardio lest I provide an entirely inappropriate and potentially illegal erotic exercise show. I pressed weights, and realized just how much strength I’ve lost. The mirrors mocked me. I did not step on the scale for fear the alarms would go off.

Disappointing, yes. But this is where it starts. I’ll be sore, and I’ll build the strength and size back. Quickly, even. I will defeat my nature yet again. I might even be in better shape than before.

I’m only telling you so you’ll hold me to it. I mean, we have guests coming for the Holidays!

What I Am Doing

I am wasting away a bit each day, but I am doing it for a good cause. I am running into battle and swinging with all my might. I am falling behind schedule before I even begin, and going home on time anyway. Some nights I send my animal in to do the dirty work while I thumb at the trigger of my rifle. I am making grand plans and procrastinating on their execution. I am distressing at the condition of the carpets and replacing them even as the menagerie atop them runs amok.

I am watching my expenses. But I am not clipping coupons.

I am standing at the garden silently, watching the life unfold even as my intellect tells me I can’t. I am seeing change that is not yet there.

Someone Truly Remarkable

What a lot of thoughtful, amusing, absurd, and delightful fiddle-dee-dee!

We do so miss the Boulanger in all her prickly pearishdom.

Help John Mayer Find A Boyfriend

I guess he’s a really 00’s man, that John Mayer. His song “Daughters” is a touching lesson on how important it is to treat daughters well. Because the wrongs parents impose on their girls scar them forever.

And isn’t it true? Really? I mean, think of the stories you know. We can all tell one.

But John Mayer is overexposed. On local Hawai`ian (and Utahan) pop radio, “Daughters” has been on a twenty minute rotation for weeks and weeks. And weeks.

At first, I loved the song. I sang along with the lyrics I knew and enjoyed the warm fuzzy I got. Then it became a little too common. And then I heard this lyric:

Boys, you can break
You'll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without warmth from
A woman's good, good heart

And now I’ve had quite enough. Boys, you can break!?

John Mayer has clearly never dated one of those boys who’s been broken. Just like girls, John, they stay broken. And they hurt people – their daughters included. The best wo/man’s good, good heart does nothing to fix them.

So ladies and gentlemen, let’s all help John find a boyfriend who’s been broken to help shake him out of his anachronistic mindset. Shall we?

Unlikely Times

Who would have thought that these days you could elect an actor as your state’s Governor, and then not end up with gays marrying each other?

Maybe The Ocean

When I talk to off-islanders who want to know what it’s like to live in Paradise, the first thing I tell them is that there’s a price to pay for everything. This city is not without the same downsides that are found in any city. Soul-crushing traffic, high prices. You name your gripes about Big Town X, and they’re here, too.

But I begin my list of things that make it worthwhile with the quality of the air. I may be facing another twelve or fourteen hour day at work, but in the car drive to the office I roll down the window and breath deep as I listen to Hawai`ian on the radio. And it’s not just that the air is clean, either. It has magic in it. It has life. And I guess maybe that life seeps into us, because people in Hawai`i live four years longer than people on the mainland.

Or maybe it’s that our own lives don’t seep out as fast.

I also end my list with the ocean. Because no matter what’s wrong, I always feel better if I can just float in the ocean. Just bobbing in the waves for a few minutes does something to the mind and body. It lifts one out of depressions and worries so effectively that sometimes I wonder if it’s my outlook that’s changing, or if the world actually improves as I rock in the ocean’s hands.

So it should come as no surprise that Tuesday came today and I’m a happier man. Lei Bear Day was a wonderful laundry list of goodness. Friends, jovial santa-shaped men, debauchery, late nights, bright beaches, Hawai`ian music, keiki hula, important conversations, invigorating air, and floating in the ocean.

Maybe the Pacific lifted my spirits, or maybe it was just a very excellent weekend.

Lei Bear Day

This weekend we will celebrate Labor Day and Lei Bear Day. It’s not Gay Pride, but, as Boulanger would say, it’s still “Homosexual Weekend.” Some of the friends who will be joining us would have been in New Orleans being decadent, but a certain storm you may have heard about changed their plans. We’re glad they’re here, and not there, needing help.

Our guest is still here, and thankfully, has managed to extend his stay. Apparently, he’s having a good time despite the fact that Head Chef and I are working during the days and the house is in full remodel and filled to the rim with dogs. He’s been the perfect sort of guest, and I’m so glad we’ve gotten to know him better.

I’m still feeling very dissociated, though. And irritable. Getting back into the groove has been very challenging, and I think part of it may have to do with the simple fact that the routine I left isn’t here any more. I have lots of questions and so very few answers.

Head Chef wants to know what the questions are, but there are so many that I keep losing track of them. It’s like walking into a record store with a mental list of everything you want to buy. By the time you get back out to your car with your new CDs, you realize that not one of them was on your list. But the list was also full of good, even important stuff. It’s just that you’ve already spent your money and it’s time to get on with the rest of your plans, so you don’t go back in.

Tour Of The Possum Pie Kitchen

I’m something of a privacy advocate. That may seem contradictory if you don’t know me, since I have a public weblog that will be indexed, cached, and searchable for all eternity. If you know me, though, it may seem even more contradictory, since I can’t keep my mouth shut about every detail of my personal life.

Still, you won’t find my name in here, and you won’t find the names of the other cooks who have a hand in making Possum Pie. People who read the menu but don’t order anything I may refer to by name, and I think that’s fine.

After all, I will be talking about my life, and that will inevitably give the truly clever plenty of information to piece together my identity.

Still, if you’re interested in knowing more about the qualities of some of the people in the kitchen, I will update this entry from time to time for that purpose.

• Head Chef: The most important cook in this kitchen. Bubbly, affable, and imminently likable, he inspires confidence and respect in all who know him. He’s always on the lookout for something fresh and exciting to put on the menu.
• Boulanger: The Bread Cook. As infinitely satisfying for the soul as the fresh-baked goods she prepares, Boulanger is lovely and stylish. She possesses a wicked wit, a hearty laugh, and a fervent drive to make a positive difference in people’s lives.
• Friturier: The fry cook. Living his life by a creed of excessive indulgence, he knows well the finer things and people who simply must be known. Easy to laugh or gossip and always ready to entertain, Friturier lives in the moment.
  
• Grillardin: The grill cook. Grillardin is animated and excited, a lover of food, drink, and a very good time.
• Tournant: The rotating cook. Tournant is someone I like, but not necessarily always the same person. I will probably be sharing the relevant qualities of each Tournant in the entry in which they are named.
• The Butcher Commis: The common cook. Not necessarily someone I’m fond of, and not always the same person. People like co-workers, service personnel, and the like are most likely The Butcher Commis.
• Pastry Chef: The maintainer of this journal.